


Hitch a Ride

by mightbeanasshole



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Car Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 17:16:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2820002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mightbeanasshole/pseuds/mightbeanasshole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just supposed to be a ride home--but honestly, Michael should have known better than to think anything with Joel would be straightforward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hitch a Ride

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: *rubs hands together excitedly* joel/michael. car sex. 
> 
> Also, please watch THIS if you have no idea why this pairing would be wonderful: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FZC5Lt2vkR0

“Michael, question,” Joel says, swinging bodily into the Achievement Hunter office late on Friday.

“Yeah?” Michael asks, leaning back in his chair. He’s silently thankful that Jack’s still in the office, knowing that Joel takes every opportunity to tease him when they’re alone.

“Could you give me a ride home?” Joel asks, smiling sweetly.

“Yeah, I guess,” Michael says. “Where do you even live?”

“Not far from you, I’m sure,” he says. “Ok, I’ll be right back.”

And he’s gone before Michael can protest or ask any more questions. Michael had been planning on staying until 6 to wrap up a bit of editing, but if Joel wants to leave now, there will be no talking him out of it.

Michael sighs and wraps up what he’s doing.

\---

Michael waits until they’re a few paces from the building, looking around before he says anything.

“This isn’t a trick to get me to come home with you, right?”

“Michael, what, no,” Joel says, smiling. He stoops to wrap one arm around Michael’s shoulders, squeezing him ridiculously to his side.

“You treat me like such a predator, Jesus,” he says. “Can’t a man ask for a ride home?”

“That’s literally exactly what a predator would say,” Michael says.

“Stop, Michael, shhh,” Joel says, hooking his arm around and putting his hand over Michael’s face roughly. His manic energy is contagious and Michael laughs in spite of himself.

“I’m not going home with you Joel,” he says through laughter.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Joel shoots back.

But Michael knows he’s not flattering himself--knows that he’s not reading too much into the constant attention Joel has shown him since he arrived in Austin, the times that Joel has found him alone and pressed his body against Michael, teasing him, trying to get him riled up.

He doesn’t know what Joel’s endgame is, but he does know better than to sleep with someone from work in his first month there as a fulltime employee.

As much as he might, Michael admits, want to.

\---

Joel refuses to tell him where he’s supposed to be driving, instead barking out directions as they come to intersections.

“OK… ok, left, LEFT Michael!”

Michael banks left at an intersection. His grasp of Austin geography isn’t picture perfect yet, but it looks like they’re getting deeper and deeper into an industrial area of the city. And they’re most definitely getting further away from his apartment.

“Joel, where the fuck do you live?”

“We’re going on an errand first,” Joel says. “Then you can drop me off.”

“What the fuck, you asked for a ride home.”

“Why, you got big plans tonight, Michael?” Joel asks. Michael cuts his eyes at the man in his passenger seat.

“Fuck you, maybe I do,” Michael says.

“OK, well, I’ll make it snappy. Right here. RIGHT.”

Joel directs them into a warehouse parking lot. The place looks empty.

“What do you need here?”

“You’ll see,” Joel says. “Pull around back.”

The warehouse looks abandoned to Michael, now that he’s driving around it, and the whole thing reeks of a practical joke. Or, maybe, of Joel murdering him and dumping his body. He pulls up behind the abandoned building, realizing that there are no cars anywhere in sight, nothing on the other side of the lot. If this is the beginning phase of a prank, it’s a strange and isolated place to stage it.

“So this is where it all ends,” Michael says, putting the car into park. “This is where you finally murder me?”

“Michael,” Joel says, unbuckling his seatbelt, leaning over the console, placing a heavy hand on Michael’s neck. “If I was gonna murder you, I wouldn't do it in a car,” he says through a smile.

He puts a hand on Michael’s knee and a hard knot of anxiety forms in Michael’s stomach.

“Then what are we doing?”

“You said yourself that you’re not going home with me,” Joel says, sliding the hand up Michael’s leg now, smiling the lewdest smile Michael has ever witnessed.

“Joel, come on,” Michael says, sighing. “We work together.”

“And?” Joel asks, cocking his head at Michael with his eyebrows raised. Michael doesn’t have an answer. “Besides, I think it says in the employee handbook that it doesn’t count if it’s in a car.”

“Yeah, guess Geoff left that out during orientation,” Michael says, rolling his eyes. “Come on, someone’s going to come by. We can’t do this here.”

Joel’s hand is still traveling, stroking up and down his leg.

“OK, then you’ll come home with me?”

“Absolutely not,” Michael says, frowning.

“You’re really making this difficult, Michael,” Joel says, giving him a lopsided smile. He doesn’t wait for a response, and his hands are quickly at the waistband of Michael’s pants, unbuckling his belt, unzipping his fly.

“In the fucking car, Joel, really?”

“In the motherfucking car, Michael,” he says.

And before Michael can protest more, Joel’s got his pants, his boxers down at his thighs, and to Michael’s horror he’s already half-erect at the contact so far. Joel’s crooked smile intensifies at the sight and he gently strokes Michael.

“Fuck,” Michael says. “At least let me fuckin… push the seat back.”

Joel drops him, gestures with hands out as if to say “be my guest.”

Michael reaches down awkwardly, pulling at the lever to roll the driver’s seat backwards, as far from the steering wheel as possible. Joel adjusts the passenger seat, too, tilting it back for better access to Michael. He’s back on Michael again in a moment, leaning over the console and stroking him. Michael sighs in spite of himself at the contact, closing his eyes.

 _This is fucking ridiculous,_ he thinks. _I’m going to lose my goddamn job._

Still, he lets Joel handle him, and after a moment the other man is shifting his weight, turning in the seat and taking Michael into his mouth.

“Fuck, Joel,” he says. “Jesus.”

He can’t think straight now, the other man’s mouth hot and soft around him. It’s all he can do not to buck up out of his seat. Joel’s a champ, too, swallowing slow and steady around Michael’s cock, alternating strokes with his mouth and his large hand. Michael realizes he’s panting, doesn’t give a fuck anymore.

Joel pulls off far too soon--Michael would’ve liked it to go on all day--but Joel is drawing the back of his hand across his mouth and smiling at Michael.

“So,” Joel says. “We’re in agreement.”

Michael huffs out a sigh.

“That’s not a no,” Joel says.

 _No,_ Michael thinks. _It’s not._

And with that, Michael kicks off his shoes, shimmying out of his pants, before struggling his way over the center console to straddle Joel in the passenger seat. He’s thankful Joel tilted back the seat--there’s barely room for the two of them. Joel doesn’t hesitate, smiling rakishly and kissing Michael immediately. Michael feels like he’s being devoured, Joel pressing his tongue into Michael’s mouth and taking him, hungrily, Joel’s hands reaching up to cup either side of his face. He hums appreciatively into Michael’s mouth, and Michael can feel the other man’s erection through his shorts, pressing into his ass.

 _Let someone walk up,_ Michael thinks between breaths. _See if I care._

Still kissing Michael, Joel reaches around the younger man, grabbing his ass, his hips, bucking slightly up to meet him. Michael takes the encouragement, reaching between them to unbuckle Joel’s belt, the button of his shorts. He shifts his weight to his knees as he reaches into the other man’s boxers.

By all logic, Michael shouldn’t be surprised by the size of Joel’s cock. The other man has a good eight inches of height on him and a build to match. Still, he’s taken aback for a moment at the generous hard-on he discovers, and Joel hums into his mouth at the contact.

Michael finds himself bucked up out of the seat as Joel lets go of him, his hands pushing down his shorts and boxers and kicking them down to his ankles. He’s back kissing Michael again, insistently pressing the pace. One of Joel’s hands flutters past his hips and back to his ass and Michael breaks the kiss.

“How are we even going to do this, Joel?” Michael asks, gulping a breath of air during the pause.

“There’s lube in my bag,” Joel says, not breaking a smile this time.

“You motherfucker,” Michael says, frowning. “You planned this. You knew all day you were gonna do this.”

“Oh, I knew longer than that,” Joel says, unable to hide a grin. “I knew when you walked in on your first day that this would happen.”

“In a fucking car Joel?”

“Maybe not in a car,” Joel admits. “I didn’t figure you’d be so hard to convince.”

“You’re an asshole,” Michael says.

Joel ignores him, fishing the bottle out of his bag between his feet, squirting lube into his hand.

“Good thing you want me anyway,” Joel says--and without warning he’s pressing a warm digit into Michael. Michael’s breath hitches, but his frown melts to a pout after the shock wears off, Joel teasing in and out of him in a confident rhythm. It shouldn’t feel as good as it does.

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” he sighs. “Fuck.”

Joel is staring at him in fascination, as if he’s memorizing every micro-expression that flashes across Michael’s face. For the first time that day, Michael feels a modicum of control.

“Is this what you wanted, Joel?” he says in a teasing tone. “This tight ass is what you’ve been after since day one, right?”

It’s Joel’s turn to sigh, his eyes heavy-lidded with arousal.

“I knew you’d put that dirty mouth to good use eventually,” Joel says, his face slack.

Michael starts to rock himself onto Joel’s hand, their erections glancing together.

“Fuck, Michael.”

“You’d better pick up the pace, old man,” Michael continues through a smile, grinding his hips down. “Unless you were planning on fingering me all day?”

“Michael Jones, you do not disappoint,” Joel says, pressing a second slick finger into him. Michael curses under his breath, tight around Joel’s fingers, his hard-on pulsing. After a moment, it’s more comfortable and he can move again.

“Is this how you pictured it?” Michael teases. “In the front seat of the car? Or did you think you’d fuck me in the kitchen after everyone was gone?”

Joel leans up to suck kisses into the sensitive skin of his neck and Michael can feel his chest, warm through twin layers of fabric.

“Maybe you thought you’d get to fuck me in the office?” Michael says. “Let Geoff walk in, prove to him you could get to me first?”

It was just a stab in the dark, but Joel moans at the image Michael is painting, grinding up into Michael’s hips. He withdraws the digits and Michael sits up, watching Joel slick his generous erection between them.

“Come on, then,” Michael says, repositioning himself over the other man’s cock, feeling victorious at having struck a nerve. “Fuck me, Joel.”

At that, Joel is pressing hard into him, and Michael whimpers in spite of himself, realizing that he’d teased too far as Joel drives deep, pressing Michael’s hips down onto his own. It’s too much too soon, but Michael won’t ask him to stop--biting hard on his lower lip instead, fighting back the tears he feels and the hot shame that always comes close behind.

“Jesus Michael,” Joel says, his voice distorted, thick with arousal.

Joel is sunk to the hilt and Michael wills himself to relax around his girth, sucking in a deep, quiet breath. And Joel is already pushing the pace, overestimating what Michael can take, because even the gentle movement feels exaggerated. Michael fights the discomfort, feels a tear come loose and roll down his cheek.

There’s pleasure though, on the edge of the pain. Joel is pressed against his prostate without even trying, and despite the fact that Michael can barely catch his breath with the overwhelming sensation of Joel buried in him, he can feel his own cock throb at the stimulation.

Slowly, slowly his body relaxes, and he rolls his hips in a languid, measured motion to stroke Joel up and down, ever so slightly. Joel moans at the movement, clutching Michael’s sides through his shirt. After a moment of the rocking motion, Joel rakes a hand under his shirt, up across his belly, rolling one of Michael’s nipples in his fingertips. Michael pants and bucks at the stimulation, and Joel continues to study his face, reveling in Michael’s reaction.

Finally Michael feels his body adjust, to relax and accommodate the new demands, and he rocks his hips faster. Joel takes the cue, his hands ghosting again to Michael’s sides, and he holds Michael still above him, stroking up into the smaller man now.

The discomfort ebbs and all Michael is left with is pleasure as he peers into the older man’s face, Joel stroking against the perfect spot inside of him. He realizes immediately that he’s going to come quicker than he wants too, the combination of Joel’s size and the ridiculous situation more than he can take.

“Is this what you were thinking about when you had me pinned up against the fridge on my first day,” Michael purrs at him, steadying himself with his hands on Joel’s shoulders. Their increased pace is making it harder for him to find purchase with his knees, and he’s scared of hitting his head on the roof of the car. Joel groans, guttural as he humps up into Michael.

“Did you think you’d fuck my mouth first, or my ass?” Michael says, low. Joel isn’t even responding anymore, just fucking harder into Michael. It’s starting to hurt again--and with a shock, Michael realizes he doesn’t care. He brings one hand down to stroke his own erection.

“I always thought you’d come in my mouth the first time,” Michael says through a grin, enjoying the look on Joel’s face as he breathes harder. “I’d probably look great with that thick cock down my throat,” he says, keeping time with Joel’s movements.

“I guess we’ll find out another time,” Joel chokes out, bucking harder into Michael, pulling Michael's hips down now. Michael can barely keep his balance, his knees and feet scrambling to steady himself--but Joel is strong and confident, holding him steady as he fucks Michael.

“I’m gonna come, Joel,” Michael groans. “It’s too good.”

“Do it, Michael,” Joel says, gripping Michael’s hips, “I want you to come.”

And Michael can feel he’s close, the sweet stimulation tinged with pain that somehow heightens his arousal, makes every stroke intensified. Joel’s fingers are tight on his hips.

“Grab me hard,” Michael orders. “Harder.”

Joels fingers curl into the skin stretched tight across his hips like a vice grip, and Michael knows now that he’ll bruise afterwards, and the feeling of Joel’s strong grip melds with the feeling of Joel’s length stroking into him, crushing now into his prostate, and Michael’s entire world goes electric with the beginning of his orgasm, his breath hitching and shaky as he starts to come. From the first spasm of orgasm, Michael feels Joel coming too, emptying himself into Michael with each stroke, and the uncomfortable, sudden fullness--the fingers digging into his hips--expands the pleasure that Michael feels as the orgasm unfurls into his chest, into his muscles, with each stroke.

As they ride the aftershocks of their orgasms, Joel lowers him gently, releasing the tight grip on Michael and allowing the smaller man’s full weight into his lap. Michael lets his chest press into Joel, knowing that he’s ruining both of their shirts--but he's far too spent to care. They breathe heavily like that for a moment, Michael’s head resting on Joel’s shoulder.

“This is fucking… highly uncomfortable,” Joel says after a moment, breaking the post-coital tension.

It’s about the level of pillow talk Michael would’ve expected from the other man.

“Well fucker at least you don’t have a plastic seatbelt port digging into your kneecap,” Michael says, making no attempt to move. His legs feel like noodles.

“You should’ve just come back to my place,” Joel says. “There’s a bed there. Beds are made for this.”

“Yeah, maybe another time,” Michael says, finally pushing off of Joel, scrambling over the center console to the driver’s side. He pulls his pants back on roughly, not even bothering with his shoes. “So are you going to tell me where you live, or?”

“About that,” Joel says, struggling now in the passenger seat, attempting to pull his shorts back up without hitting his head on the roof of the car. “I need you to take me back to work.”

“What? Why?”

“My car’s there.”

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” Michael says. “You’re such an asshole.”

 


End file.
